“Why do we stop here?” she asked suddenly.

“The Great King, may he live for ever, is said not to be in the city,” answered Zoroaster, “and it would ill become us to enter the palace before him.”  He spoke aloud in the Median language that the slaves might hear him; then he added in Hebrew and in a lower voice, “It would be scarcely wise, or safe, to enter Shushan when the king is away.  Who can tell what may have happened there in these days?  Babylon has rebelled; the empire is far from settled.  All Persia may be on the very point of a revolt.”

“A fitting time indeed for our journey—­for me and my women to be travelling abroad with a score of horsemen for a guard!  Why did you bring me here?  How long are we to remain encamped by the roadside, waiting the pleasure of the populace to let us in, or the convenience of this new king to return?”

Nehushta turned upon her companion as she spoke, and there was a ring of mingled scorn and disappointment in her voice.  Her dark eyes stated coldly at Zoroaster from the straight opening between her veils, and before he could answer, she turned her back upon him and moved a few steps away, gazing out at the setting sun across the fertile meadows.  The warrior stood still, and a dark flush overspread his face.  Then he turned pale, but whatever were the words that rose to his lips, he did not speak them, but occupied himself with superintending the pitching of the women’s tents.  The other litters were brought, and set down with their occupants; the long file of camels, some laden with baggage and provisions, some bearing female slaves, kneeled down to be unloaded upon the grass, anxiously craning their long necks the while in the direction of the stream; the tent-pitchers set to work; and at the last another score of horsemen, who had formed the rear-guard of the caravan, cantered up and joined their companions who had already dismounted.  With the rapid skill of long practice, all did their share, and in a few minutes all the immense paraphernalia of a Persian encampment were spread out and disposed in place for the night.  Contrary to the usual habit Zoroaster had not permitted the tent-pitchers and other slaves to pass on while he and his charges made their noonday halt; for he feared some uprising in the neighbourhood of the city in the absence of the king, and he wished to keep his whole company together as a measure of safety, even at the sacrifice of Nehushta’s convenience.

She herself still stood apart, and haughtily turned away from her serving-women, giving them no answer when they saluted her and offered her cushions and cooling drinks.  She drew her cloak more closely about her and tightened her veil upon her face.  She was weary, disappointed, almost angry.  For days she had dreamed of the reception she would have at the palace, of the king and of the court; of the luxury of rest after her long journey, and of the thousand diversions and excitements she would find in revisiting the scenes of her childhood.  It was no small disappointment to find herself condemned to another night in camp; and her first impulse was to blame Zoroaster.